Notes to My Loves

                                    " A nd though she be, but little, she is fierce,"                                                                                          ----William Shakespeare       Her eyes are that of marbles. The perfect mixture of green and blue. They gaze in wonder at the smallest things. A bug. A piece of lint. A black and white butterfly drinking nectar from a hot pink flower. She talks as if she has been a part of this world longer than her three years, and asks questions that make me laugh. She is both tender and tough. A combination of a princess who loves pink, and a jean loving, hair down and flowing type of girl. (Yup, ...

     Images, perspectives, preconceived notions, wishful thinking, pride, and public scrutiny. What do all of these things have in common? What do all of these mean for most mothers? These are the undercurrents to how most of us choose to live our lives. These are the tides and torrents that shift the sand beneath our feet, or pull our lives into chaos. They are the images not of what is truly going on within, but what we want others to think is truth. The snapshots of greatness versus the grainy ones of defeat. Those that hang proudly on our walls versus the ones we often quickly delete.      In the last couple of years, I have seen many of my friends struggle. I have struggled. We have struggled silently, publicly, quietly, and often times without the knowledge of those closest to us. Other times we confide in our careful few. The ones that we know won't judge or have words to fix what is going on.     The thing that has kept me thinking is wh...